A certain relish seems irresistible to this Latina as the mass media has been compelled to sit up, look south of the border, and take notice. Probably the Chiapas uprising and Mexico's recent political turmoil have won us no more than a brief day in the sun. Or even less: liberal Ted Koppel still hadn't noticed the historic assassination of presidential candidate Colosio three days afterward. But it's been sweet, anyway.
When Kissinger said years ago "nothing important ever happens in the south," he articulated a contemptuous indifference toward Latin America, its people and their culture which has long dominated U.S. institutions and attitudes. Mexico may be great for a vacation and some people like burritos but the usual image of Latin America combines incompetence with absurdity in loud colors. My parents, both Spanish teachers, endured decades of being told kids were better off learning French.
U.S. political culture is not only Anglo-dominated but also embraces an exceptionally stubborn national self-centeredness, with no global vision other than relations of domination. The U.S. refuses to see itself as one nation sitting on a continent with 20 others all speaking languages other than English and having the right not to be dominated.
Such arrogant indifference extends to Latinos within the U.S. The mass media complain, "people can't relate to Hispanics" - or Asians, they say. Such arrogant indifference has played an important role in invisibilizing La Raza (except where we become a serious nuisance or a handy scapegoat). It is one reason the U.S. harbors an exclusively white-on-Black concept of racism. It is one barrier to new thinking about racism which is crucial today. There are others.
In a society as thoroughly and violently racialized as the United States, white-Black relations have defined racism for centuries. Today the composition and culture of the U.S. are changing rapidly. We need to consider seriously whether we can afford to maintain an exclusively white/Black model of racism when the population will be 32 percent Latino, Asian/Pacific American and Native American - in short, neither Black nor white - by the year 2050. We are challenged to recognize that multi-colored racism is mushrooming, and then strategize how to resist it. We are challenged to move beyond a dualism comprised of two white supremacist inventions: Blackness and Whiteness.
At stake in those challenges is building a united anti-racist force strong enough to resist contemporary racist strategies of divide-and- conquer. Strong enough, in the long run, to help defeat racism itself. Doesn't an exclusively Black/white model of racism discourage the perception of common interests among people of color and thus impede a solidarity that can challenge white supremacy? Doesn't it encourage the isolation of African Americans from potential allies? Doesn't it advise all people of color to spend too much energy understanding our lives in relation to Whiteness, and thus freeze us in a defensive, often self- destructive mode?
For a Latina to talk about recognizing the multi-colored varieties of racism is not, and should not be, yet another round in the Oppression Olympics. We don't need more competition among different social groupings for that "Most Oppressed" gold. We don't need more comparisons of suffering between women and Blacks, the disabled and the gay, Latino teenagers and white seniors, or whatever. We don't need more surveys like the recent much publicized Harris Poll showing that different peoples of color are prejudiced toward each other - a poll patently designed to demonstrate that us coloreds are no better than white folk. (The survey never asked people about positive attitudes.)
Rather, we need greater knowledge, understanding, and openness to learning about each other's histories and present needs as a basis for working together. Nothing could seem more urgent in an era when increasing impoverishment encourages a self-imposed separatism among people of color as a desperate attempt at community survival. Nothing could seem more important as we search for new social change strategies in a time of ideological confusion.
My call to rethink concepts of racism in the U.S. today is being sounded elsewhere. Among academics, liberal foundation administrators, and activist-intellectuals, you can hear talk of the need for a new "racial paradigm" or model. But new thinking seems to proceed in fits and starts, as if dogged by a fear of stepping on toes, of feeling threatened, or of losing one's base. With a few notable exceptions, even our progressive scholars of color do not make the leap from perfunctorily saluting a vague multi-culturalism to serious analysis. We seem to have made little progress, if any, since Bob Blauner's 1972 book "Racial Oppression in America". Recognizing the limits of the white-Black axis, Blauner critiqued White America's ignorance of and indifference to the Chicano/a experience with racism.
Real opposition to new paradigms also exists. There are academics scrambling for one flavor of ethnic studies funds versus another. There are politicians who cultivate distrust of others to keep their own communities loyal. When we hear, for example, of Black/Latino friction, dismay should be quickly followed by investigation. In cities like Los Angeles and New York, it may turn out that political figures scrapping for patronage and payola have played a narrow nationalist game, whipping up economic anxiety and generating resentment that sets communities against each other.
So the goal here, in speaking about moving beyond a bi-polar concept of racism is to build stronger unity against white supremacy. The goal is to see our similarities of experience and needs. If that goal sounds naive, think about the hundreds of organizations formed by grassroots women of different colors coming together in recent years. Their growth is one of today's most energetic motions and it spans all ages. Think about the multicultural environmental justice movement. Think about the coalitions to save schools. Small rainbows of our own making are there, to brighten a long road through hellish times.
It is in such practice, through daily struggle together, that we are most likely to find the road to greater solidarity against a common enemy. But we also need a will to find it and ideas about where, including some new theory.
Until very recently, Latino invisibility - like that of Native Americans and Asian/Pacific Americans - has been close to absolute in U.S. seats of power, major institutions, and the non-Latino public mind. Having lived on both the East and West Coasts for long periods, I feel qualified to pronounce: an especially myopic view of Latinos prevails in the East. This, despite such data as a 24.4 percent Latino population of New York City alone in 1991, or the fact that in 1990 more Puerto Ricans were killed by New York police under suspicious circumstances than any other ethnic group. Latino populations are growing rapidly in many eastern cities and the rural South, yet remain invisibile or stigmatized - usually both.
Eastern blinders persist. I've even heard that the need for a new racial paradigm is dismissed in New York as a California hangup. A black Puerto Rican friend in New York, when we talked about experiences of racism common to Black and brown, said "People here don't see Border Patrol brutality against Mexicans as a form of police repression," despite the fact that the Border Patrol is the largest and most uncontrolled police force in the U.S. It would seem that an old ignorance has combined with new immigrant bashing to sustain divisions today.
While the East (and most of the Midwest) usually remains myopic, the West Coast has barely begun to move away from its own denial. Less than two years ago in San Francisco, a city almost half Latino or Asian/Pacific American, a leading daily newspaper could publish a major series on contemporary racial issues and follow the exclusively Black-white paradigm. Although millions of TV viewers saw massive Latino participation in the April 1992 Los Angeles uprising, which included 18 out of 50 deaths and the majority of arrests, the mass media and most people labeled that event "a Black riot."
If the West Coast has more recognition of those who are neither Black nor white, it is mostly out of fear about the proximate demise of its white majority. A second, closely related reason is the relentless campaign by California Gov. Pete Wilson to scapegoat immigrants for economic problems and pass racist, unconstitutional laws attacking their health, education, and children's future. Wilson has almost single-handedly made the word "immigrant" mean Mexican or other Latino (and sometimes Asian). Who thinks of all the people coming from the former Soviet Union and other countries? The absolute racism of this has too often been successfully masked by reactionary anti- immigrant groups like FAIR blaming immigrants for the staggering African-American unemployment rate.
Wilson's immigrant bashing is likely to provide a model for other parts of the country. The five states with the highest immigration rates - California, Florida, New York, Illinois and Texas - all have a Governor up for re-election in 1994. Wilson tactics won't appear in every campaign but some of the five states will surely see intensified awareness and stigmatization of Latinos as well as Asian/Pacific Islanders.
As this suggests, what has been a regional issue mostly limited to western states is becoming a national issue. If you thought Latinos were just Messicans down at the border, wake up - they are all over North Carolina, Pennsylvania and 8th Avenue Manhattan now. A qualitative change is taking place. With the broader geographic spread of Latinos and Asian/Pacific Islanders has come a nationalization of racist practices and attitudes that were once regional. The west goes east, we could say.
Like the monster Hydra, racism is growing some ugly new heads. We will have to look at them closely.
A bi-polar model of racism - racism as white on Black - has never really been accurate. Looking for the roots of racism in the U.S. we can begin with the genocide against American Indians which made possible the U.S. land base, crucial to white settlement and early capitalist growth. Soon came the massive enslavement of African people which facilitated that growth. As slave labor became economically critical, "blackness" became ideologically critical; it provided the very source of "whiteness" and the heart of racism. Franz Fanon would write, "colour is the most outward manifestation of race."
If Native Americans had been a crucial labor force during those same centuries, living and working in the white man's sphere, our racist ideology might have evolved differently. "The tawny," as Ben Franklin dubbed them, might have defined the opposite of what he called "the lovely white." But with Indians decimated and survivors moved to distant concentration camps, they became unlikely candidates for this function. Similarly, Mexicans were concentrated in the distant West; elsewhere Anglo fear of them or need for control was rare. They also did not provide the foundation for a definition of whiteness.
Some anti-racist left activists have put forth the idea that only African
Americans experience racism as such and that the suffering of other people
of color results from national minority rather than racial oppression. From
this viewpoint, the exclusively white/Black model for racism is correct.
Latinos, then, experience exploitation and repression for reasons of
culture and nationality - not for their "race." (It should go without
saying in Does the distinction hold? This and other theoretical questions call for
more analysis and more expertise than one article can offer. In the
meantime, let's try out the idea that Latinos do suffer for their
nationality and culture, especially language. They became part of the U.S.
through the 1846-48 war on Mexico and thus a foreign population to be
colonized. But as they were reduced to cheap or semi-slave labor, they
quickly came to suffer for their "race" - meaning, as non-whites. In the
Southwest of a super-racialized nation, the broad parallelism of race and
class embraced Mexicans ferociously.
The bridge here might be a definition of racism as "the reduction of the
cultural to the biological," in the words of French scholar Christian
Delacampagne now working in Egypt. Or: "racism exists wherever it is
claimed that a given social status is explained by a given natural
characteristic." We know that line: Mexicans are just naturally lazy and
have too many children, so they're poor and exploited.
The discrimination, oppression and hatred experienced by Native Americans,
Mexicans, Asian/Pacific Islanders, and Arab Americans are forms of racism.
Speaking only of Latinos, we have seen in California and the Southwest,
especially along the border, almost 150 years of relentless repression
which today includes Central Americans among its targets. That history
reveals hundreds of lynchings between 1847 and 1935, the use of
counter-insurgency armed forces beginning with the Texas Rangers, random
torture and murder by Anglo ranchers, forced labor, rape by border lawmen,
and the prevailing Anglo belief that a Mexican life doesn't equal a dog's
in value.
But wait. If color is so key to racial definition, as Fanon and others
say, perhaps people of Mexican background experience racism less than
national minority oppression because they are not dark enough as a group.
For White America, shades of skin color are crucial to defining worth. The
influence of those shades has also been internalized by communities of
color. Many Latinos can and often want to pass for whites; therefore White
America may see them as less threatening than darker sisters and brothers.
Here we confront more of the complexity around us today, with questions
like: What about the usually poor, very dark Mexican or Central American
of strong Indian or African heritage? (Yes, folks, 200-300,000 Africans
were brought to Mexico as slaves, which is far, far more than the
Spaniards who came.) And what about the effects of accented speech or
foreign name, characteristics that may instantly subvert "passing?"
What about those cases where a Mexican-American is never accepted, no
matter how light-skinned, well-dressed or well-spoken? A Chicano lawyer
friend coming home from a professional conference in suit, tie and
briefcase found himself on a bus near San Diego that was suddenly stopped
by the Border Patrol. An agent came on board and made a beeline through
the all-white rows of passengers direct to my friend. "Your papers." The
agent didn't believe Jose was coming from a U.S. conference and took him
off the bus to await proof. Jose was lucky; too many Chicanos and
Mexicans end up killed.
In a land where the national identity is white, having the "wrong"
nationality becomes grounds for racist abuse. Who would draw a sharp line
between today's national minority oppression in the form of immigrant-
bashing, and racism?
None of this aims to equate the African American and Latino experiences;
that isn't necessary even if it were accurate. Many reasons exist for the
persistence of the white/Black paradigm of racism; they include numbers,
history, and the psychology of whiteness. In particular they include
centuries of slave revolts, a Civil War, and an ongoing resistance to
racism that cracked this society wide open while the world watched. Nor
has the misery imposed on Black people lessened in recent years. New
thinking about racism can and should keep this experience at the center.
The exclusively white/Black concept of race and racism in the U.S. rests
on a western, Protestant form of dualism woven into both race and gender
relations from earliest times. In the dualist universe there is only black
and white. A disdain, indeed fear, of mixture haunts the Yankee soul;
there is no room for any kind of multi- faceted identity, any hybridism.
As a people, La Raza combines three sets of roots - indigenous, European
and African - all in widely varying degrees. In short we represent a
profoundly un-American concept: Mexicans in the U.S. also defy the either-or, dualistic mind in that, on
the one hand, we are a colonized people displaced from the ancestral
homeland with roots in the present-day U.S. that go back centuries. Those
ancestors didn't cross the border; the border crossed them. At the same
time many of us have come to the U.S. more recently as "immigrants"
seeking work. The complexity of Raza baffles and frustrates most Anglos;
they want to put one neat label on us. It baffles many Latinos too, who
often end up categorizing themselves racially as "Other" for lack of
anything better. For that matter, the term "Latino" which I use here is a
monumental simplification; it refers to 20-plus nationalities and a wide
range of classes.
But we need to grapple with the complexity, for there is more to come. If
anything, this nation will see more A glimpse at the next century tells us how much we need to look beyond the
white/Black model of race relations and racism. White/Black are real
poles, central to the history of U.S. racism. We can neither ignore them
nor stop there. But our effectiveness in fighting racism depends on seeing
the changes taking place, trying to perceive the contours of the future.
From the time of the Greeks to the present, racism around the world has
had certain commonalties but no permanently fixed character. It is
evolving again today, and we'd best labor to read the new faces of this
Hydra-headed monster. Remember, for every head that Hydra lost it grew two
more.
Sometimes the problem seems so clear. Last year I showed slides of Chicano
history to a Oakland high school class with 47 African Americans and three
Latino students. The images included lynchings and police beatings of
Mexicans and other Latinos, and many years of resistance. At the end one
Black student asked, "Seems like we have had a lot of experiences in
common - so why can't Blacks and Mexicans get along better?" No answers,
but there was the first step: asking the question.
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